


What Brings You Here

by awaytobeunshaken



Series: A Million Reasons to Love You [1]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 20:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14316732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awaytobeunshaken/pseuds/awaytobeunshaken
Summary: Paul Stamets is not an easy man to love. Yet ever since Hugh met him, it's been impossible not to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this started out as a followup to [this post](http://awaytobeunshaken.tumblr.com/post/172656390426/so-paul-was-kind-of-overselling-the), but now it's turning into just Hugh's POV throughout the series.
> 
> Chapter 1 covers "Context is for Kings" and "The Butcher's Knife Caress not for the Lamb's Cry".

Hugh looks up from his PADD at the sound of the door swishing open, and smiles as Paul enters. “Hey, how was work?”

“You heard about our new passengers?

Hugh sighs, hoping it’s not too obvious. Paul makes no move to sit beside him, and between that and answering Hugh’s question with a question, he’s obviously preparing for a speech. “I’m aware.” He was brought to the brig to check them out, a precaution after the shuttle incident and the brawl in the mess hall. “Why?”

“Burnham.”

Of course. Hugh wasn’t as convinced as many others that Michael Burnham’s mutiny had directly led to the war. All accounts indicated the Klingons had fired first, after all. But for people looking for a target to pin blame, she was a convenient one. “They’ll be gone in a few days.”

“Correct. And until then Lorca has decided she should work in my department, playing code monkey. Which was fine, I was able to ignore her, until she started eavesdropping on my conversation with Straal. Then she tried to pry information on our project out of me, forgetting that  _ she  _ is no longer privileged to that.”

Hugh smiles. “She found an error in your code, didn’t she?”

“That’s  _ hardly  _ the point,” Paul snaps. He sits beside Hugh on the sofa.

“So what are they up to on the  _ Glenn _ , exactly?”

“I wish I knew. I mean, I know Straal’s been light-years ahead of me and they’ve got something big planned, but there’s only so much detail he can go into over subspace. I kind of wish I had either more information, or none at all.”

“You’re worried.”

“No!” Paul bends over to tug off his boots. “A little,” he admits. “We’re supposed to be doing this together; who knows what he’s getting up to without me to watch his back.” Paul pulls his feet up onto the sofa, his toes against Hugh’s thigh.

“Funny,” Hugh idly runs his fingers over Paul’s calves and feet, “I always thought it was the other way around.”

“Again, not the point.”

“You don’t want to let anyone else risk themselves. You’d rather take it all on yourself.” He runs a hand through Paul’s hair, messing up the neat styling. “You look out for people. I like that about you. I mean, it worries me, but I like it.”

Paul scowls, but slips his fingers between Hugh’s. “How do you do that?”

“Because I’m one of the few who gets to see the wonderful man that you are.”

Paul runs his hand up Hugh’s arm, fingers teasing at the seam of the jacket. “How did I let that happen?” he says, a smile spreading across his face but mostly in his eyes. Hugh smiles back. “Oh, that’s right. The way you look when you look at me like that.”

Hugh wants to say more, to tell Paul that he just wishes he could be satisfied with what they had here, but he looks at this beautiful man,  _ wanting  _ him, and suddenly the rest of it can wait. He grabs Paul by the shoulders and pulls himself onto the other man’s lap, knees resting on the outside of Paul’s hips. He leans in for a kiss, and feels Paul’s skin warm against his own, and in this moment that’s enough.

\---

“Paul!” Hugh is panting as he bursts through the door to their quarters. Paul is sitting cross-legged on the sofa, the lights dimmed. Hugh sits beside him, arms enveloping him almost as a reflex. “The  _ Glenn. _ I’m so sorry.” As a doctor he’s had to say those words so many times, to so many grieving families. They don’t feel like enough for Paul.

Paul isn’t one for tears, and there are none here, just quiet words. “I saw him. HIs body. It was... twisted, ruined. Almost like...” He reaches up to grasp Hugh’s hand. “I barely recognized him. And of course I’m the one who had to turn it into a competition. ‘Race you to perfect a spore drive.’ Fuck!”

“This is not your fault, Paul.”

“You’re right. If Starfleet had left well enough alone, we’d still be working in our lab right now.”

_ And we’d be apart.  _ Hugh bites back his words. Of course he doesn’t say that, as much as it hurts to think of being separated from Paul again, he can’t intrude on Paul’s grief and make it about him. “Tell me what you need.”

“Just you.” 

So Hugh pulls Paul’s head to his chest, stroking his hair and face and pressing his cheek against Paul’s temple. “I’m right here.” 

\---

“Shit,” mutters Hugh as he opens his eyes and realizes that he and Paul have spent the night on the sofa.  Reluctantly, gingerly, he lifts his head, wincing at the pain in his neck. As much as he tries to keep in shape, he’s not in his twenties anymore. Paul’s going to be feeling it as well. Hugh presses his thumbs to the middle of Paul’s shoulder blades, gently working the massage up his neck.

“Mmm, that’s good...” Paul jerks his head up as he awakens fully. “Aagh!” He puts a hand to the back of his neck.

Hugh sighs, “I was trying to help you avoid that.”

“What time is it?”

“0615, but Paul, if you need to stay in today...”

Paul is already on his way to the wardrobe. “I  _ need  _ to finish integrating Straal’s tech from the  _ Glenn. _ I should have been working on that last night; I just... couldn’t.” He tosses clean underwear and socks onto the bed.

Hugh walks up behind him and rests his hands on Paul’s shoulders. “I understand. You needed time. And if you need more, take it. I’ll handle Lorca.”

“That accomplishes nothing. The work still needs to get done. And I'm the only one who can do it.”

\---

Sickbay is just starting to calm down after the last, nearly disastrous jump when the doors swish open. Hugh looks up to see Paul stumbling in, hands over his face.

“Paul! What the hell happened?”

“Busted by dose od the codsole. Just fix it.” 

Hugh already has his tricorder out, scanning Paul’s head and face. “Shit! Forget your nose; you fractured your skull!” Not only that, he’s centimeters away from serious brain damage. He grips Paul’s chin in one hand while grabbing a regenerator with the other. “Hold. Completely. Still.” He slowly runs the tool across Paul’s forehead, his heart is pounding as he focuses on the task. 

Satisfied that his partner’s skull is intact again, Hugh moves his hand from Paul’s chin to his shoulder and begins working on the nose. Paul immediately starts moving his head again as the regenerator hits.  “ _ Hold still _ , or you’ll wind up looking like a Tellarite.” Hugh has just finished repairing the cartilage and smoothing out the abrasion when Lorca enters.

Hugh explains Paul’s injury in careful terms, making sure both men are aware how serious it could have been. He’s not prepared for Paul’s response. “The frontal lobe is overrated. It only contains memory and emotional expression. It’s completely overrated.”

Hugh picks up on Paul’s dry sarcasm and attempts to respond in kind, but Hugh’s frustration with Paul’s complete refusal to give a damn about himself comes through in his face and his tone. “Well, I saved it. You know, just in case you might want to have a feeling one day.”

“Gentlemen!” Hugh immediately curses his lapse in professionalism. He looks warily at the captan, waiting to be called out further. Lorca, however, is more interested in berating Paul than scolding the doctor. And that’s almost worse.  For once he can’t really blame Lorca for his... intensity. The stakes are real, and they’re huge, yet it takes every fiber of self-control to keep from responding as the captain berates his chief engineer. “...and on your hands!” Lorca finishes as Paul storms out of sickbay. 

\---

Hugh is the first one home this evening. He doesn’t say a word as Paul enters their quarters and curls up on the sofa beside him. “We did it!” 

Hugh nods, but doesn’t smile. “Good for you.”

“Hugh?” He doesn’t respond. “Look, in sickbay, I meant that for Lorca, okay? I don’t really think...” Paul frowns and raises a hand to Hugh’s face. “You know I love you, right?”

Hugh lives for moments like these, Paul so full of joy and tenderness. But now he finds himself wondering how long it will last this time. “I think so? Or maybe I just hope so.” Because even now, after seeing this man every day for the past six months, Hugh’s heart still leaps at the sight of him.

“Hugh? You don’t really--”

Hugh catches Paul’s hand as it falls from his cheek. “Look, I know this has not been easy for you. But you did a good thing today. And that’s why we’re here, why I’m here. That’s what Starfleet’s about; people working together to do amazing things. I know, it seems like Lorca wants to burn everything good about it to the ground. But I would deal with him a hundred times over if it meant falling asleep in your arms each night.”

“Is that what you think? That I’d just give you up because of  _ him _ ?”

“When you were saying you were going to pack everything up and leave, well, you sounded like you meant it.”

“I did. And I still do.” He looks Hugh straight in the eye. “I’d walk away from all of it tomorrow--if I thought you’d come with me.”

“Even after today.” Paul nods and puts an arm around Hugh’s shoulders. “Paul, what aren’t you saying?”

He pulls Hugh close. “I don’t want to lose you, too.”

As Hugh nestles into Paul’s embrace, the safest place in the universe, such a thing seems nearly impossible. Hugh lives for moments like these; when they’re alone, and he gets to see the side of Paul that most people miss. “You’ll just need to keep looking out for me, then.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul Stamets is not an easy man to love. Yet ever since Hugh met him, it's been impossible not to.
> 
> Chapter 2: covers events during "Choose Your Pain"

“Doctor Culber?” Hugh swivels his chair around to see Michael Burnham standing over him. “Are you busy?”

“Nothing that can’t wait. What do you need?” He motions to a nearby stool; Burnham sits and wheels it next to him.

“It’s the tardigrade. I can’t say for sure but I think we’re pushing it to far. I’m judging based solely on behavior of course... I don’t have the equipment for in-depth biological scans, and I can’t go any further on this without proof. So I guess I’m asking if I can get a second opinion.”

“It’s been quiet so far today. That shouldn’t be a problem.” He pokes his head into the CMO’s office to let her know he’ll be out for a moment, then grabs a medkit and follows Burnham down the corridor. When they reach their destination she taps in a code at the console and the doors slide open. Hugh enters a room lined with weapons hanging on every wall. Different types of guns, blades, and other items he can’t even identify, though judging by the rest of the room they’re likely equally dangerous. And at the far end of the room there’s another doorway, this one covered by the faint shimmering iridescence of a forcefield. “What is all this?”

“Captain Lorca’s... museum? At least I guess that’s what you’d call it.” Burnham points to the forcefield. “The tardigrade’s in there. I’ll turn the lights down; that usually coaxes it out.” She goes to the console next to the doorway and does so.

“Now, I am gonna need to get in there to get the data I think you’re looking for. Do you think that will be a problem?” He remembers Commander Landry beaming into sickbay after being attacked by this creature, remembers Paul later that night saying he doesn’t want to lose him, and wonders if he’s made a mistake coming here.

Burnham frowns. “Well, it knows me, and I brought you here. It should be able to see that you’re not a threat.”

“All right, give me just a minute, then.” Hugh kneels in front of the forcefield. “Hey, little guy.” Hugh chokes back a laugh and ducks his head to hide his grin. Probably not the most accurate form of address he could have chosen. “Hi, there. I’m Dr. Culber. I’m just here to give you a quick check-up, okay?” The tardigrade let out a pitiful whine. Hugh nods. “I know.” He looks up at Burnham. “Okay, go ahead.”

The forcefield shimmers and dematerializes, and Hugh steps into the chamber, getting a closer look at the tardigrade. It really was a fascinating creature; it looked almost identical to the ones he’d seen under microscopes, but the size was incredible. He doesn’t detect any physical damage for the most part, except for the angry, red flesh where he assumes the drive machinery connects, but there is a definite deterioration of the frontal lobes. “It looks like each jump is damaging it further. I can’t be sure if it’s due to the jumps themselves, or a byproduct of stress; but the way we’re using it is damaging it.”

Burnham sighs. “Part of me was hoping you’d prove me wrong. But thank you. And if I can borrow just a few more minutes of your time, we need to break the news.”

Hugh stops her as she starts back down the corridor. “The bridge is the other way.”

“We’re not going to the bridge. Lt. Stamets needs to know about this.”

“Is that why you came to me?”

“I came to you because you’ve always been friendly to me, and you weren’t busy, and I knew you’d care about this.” Her reasons make sense, but he still feels a little used. “And, I figured it couldn’t hurt, just in case I need backup.”

“I see. Well, you should know,” he explains as they enter engineering, “that Lt. Stamets rarely, if ever, listens to me.”

“I can handle him.”

“Please, show me how,” Hugh mutters.

\---

Hugh’s communicator chirps as the ship comes off of black alert. “Hugh!” Paul’s voice is urgent. “We need you in engineering.”

He enters engineering to see both Paul and Tilly in the reaction cube, standing over... something. As he draws closer, he sees that it’s the tardigrade, shrunken and curled into a ball, with a puddle surrounding it. He immediately begins scanning, but doesn’t detect any life-signs from the creature. He makes some adjustments on his tricorder and runs a deeper cellular scan.

“It’s still alive,” he determines, “barely. It’s expelled most of the fluid from its body and now it’s in something similar to a hibernation state, but more than that. It’s in extreme survival mode. Where’s Burnham?” Hugh adds, only now recognizing her absence.

“Confined to quarters,” says Paul. “She and Saru got into it. We _were_ trying to find a workaround. He said to leave it be until we have the captain. So now this is where we’re at. I think that damn chair just goes to people’s heads. Speaking of which, we might want to let him know about this. Doctor, you’re with me. Cadet, transport the tardigrade back to its pen.”

“Yes, sir.”

\---

“Do you understand my orders and can I count on you to follow them, Lieutenant Stamets?” Hugh is expecting Paul to protest Saru’s instruction, to push back, to explain that what the Captain wanted just wasn’t possible. He’s waiting for Paul to show the fire that Hugh loves seeing when he feels strongly about something.

The last thing he expects is for Paul to simply say, “Yes, sir.” His pained acceptance comes at a complete surprise and Hugh can’t keep the shock and revulsion from his face as he turns toward Paul.

“Paul,” Hugh barely waits for the bridge doors to close, “you’re not really going to--”

“He’s right. I’m in charge of the spore drive, and it’s my job to get us out of here safely. So that’s what I’m going to do.”

“You know I can’t help you with this.”

“I’m not asking you to. It’s my responsibility.”

He can see in Paul’s eyes that he’s committed, that Hugh has little chance to change his mind. Still, he’s not ready to give up. “What if you--”

“No, Hugh. We are done discussing this. Part of us serving together, is that we don’t get involved in each other’s work. You have your own job, let me do mine.” Hugh watches Paul stride down the corridor toward engineering. He probably doesn’t have any work to do, and wonders if he should just call off for the rest of his shift. But if he did that, it would be to follow Paul. And Paul had made it clear that that would be pointless.

As he expected, sickbay is empty of patients at the moment, and the CMO assigns him some busy work. He combs through the files she’s asked him to review, linking them to one chart or another, letting his thoughts wander. He’s always been sure that Paul had a good heart under his rough exterior. Has he just let infatuation blind him for two years?

As the ship goes to black alert, he recalls the conversation they had weeks ago: _You don’t want to let anyone else risk themselves. You’d rather take it all on yourself._ No, he’s not wrong; Paul is a good man. If Hugh knows anything, he knows this. Of course he’s not going to risk the tardigrade. Hugh silently apologizes for ever thinking he would.

They’re still jumping though.

Which means Paul must have done something incredibly stupid.

“Shit!” He pulls out his communicator and calls engineering. “Paul, what are you doing? Paul, can you hear me? Please!”

He doesn’t bother asking permission this time before racing out of sickbay and down the corridor to the nearest turbolift. He knows the lifts will be offline during black alert, but he hammers the panel anyway. After a seeming eternity, the jump ends, the lights go back to normal, and the doors slide open.

Hugh bursts into engineering to see Paul lying on the floor of the reaction cube, the computer sounding an automated alert: “Warning, failure to initiate spore drive deactiva--”

“Computer, _shut up!_ ” He races over to the transparent chamber. “Paul!” Paul is lying motionless, his face blank, blood trailing from four puncture wounds on opposite sides of his chest. Hugh looks at the panel beside the door, but the words swim in front of his eyes. “Damnit, Paul! How do you open this thing?”

“Doctor?” He turns his head to see Tilly enter. “Oh, no! Here, let me get that.” She hurries to the chamber and punches something into the console, and the door slowly swings outward. Hugh enters and drops to his knees beside Paul.

“Is he dead?” squeaks Tilly. He slides two fingers under Paul’s collar. The pulse is far slower than he’s comfortable with, but it’s there. He shakes his head and picks up the empty hypospray laying on the ground near Paul’s shoulder.

“What’s this?”

Tilly’s eyes go wide. “He injected himself with the tardigrade DNA compound.”

Hugh reaches into his medkit for a stimulant and presses it to Paul’s neck; the other man awakens with a gasp. Hugh lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he watches Paul’s eyes fly open. “Hugh.” Paul smiles and slowly reaches up to take his hand.

Hugh returns the smile, the corners of his eyes glistening. “I’m right here.”

“Did we make it?” asks Paul.

Tilly nods. “Yeah.”

Paul starts laughing, a laugh that Hugh has only ever heard in their most private moments, and Hugh wastes no time in grabbing his communicator with his free hand and calling for a transport to sickbay. Paul’s laughter fades as he materializes on the bed and glances around at the change in scenery. “No, Hugh, it’s okay, I’m fine,” Paul says, gasping, “It’s just, it’s so incredible.”

“Love, you are unbelievable. And no, you are not fine. You’re bleeding.” And he’s injected himself with foreign DNA. Not to mention whatever the journey might have done to his brain. But bleeding is easy. Bleeding is something he can fix. The rest will just have to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this one diverges just a bit from the actual episode at the end. Between the events of the last chapter and Hugh's reaction on the bridge I just can't imagine him _not_ realizing that Paul is up to something, at which point of course he's going to be the first one on the scene.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul Stamets is not an easy man to love. Yet ever since Hugh met him, it's been impossible not to.
> 
> Chapter 3: covers "Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad"

Hugh runs a hand through Paul’s hair as he sleeps, then lets it trail down the side of his face to his chin. He’s rarely had the chance to do this before. Paul never seemed to need as much sleep as Hugh, likely due to caffeine consumption, though he’s never admitted it.

Paul sleeps more now, ever since becoming a living navigation computer. In fact, everything about Paul has been _more_ . He’s more excited about his work, more friendly with his colleagues, more tender and affectionate at home, and _fantastic_ in bed. People keep mentioning how much Paul has changed, but for Hugh it’s really just a more _intense_ version of the man he’s always loved.

Hugh protested the idea at first, when he was informed that Paul would continue navigating the drive. The memory of Paul lying in that chamber, of not knowing if he was even alive, still lives in his nightmares. However, when he was overruled by not only the captain, but by Paul himself, he knew there was no point in arguing further. So he focused on making the process as safe as he could.

This started with making sure Paul was taking proper care of himself. Balanced meals, vitamins, at least _some_ exercise; he was grateful at least that sleep was no longer an issue. He ensures Paul gets a local anesthetic before each jump and prompt wound care afterward. It’s still not enough.

Hugh’s gaze wanders from the blissful exhaustion on Paul’s face to the angry red marks on his abdomen, where he’s pierced almost daily by the spore drive interface. Despite all Hugh’s precautions, the drive is damaging him. The best dermal regenerator won’t prevent scarring when the injury keeps repeating itself, and Hugh knows from experience just how tender those areas are. There has to be something more he can do.

He runs a hand down Paul’s side, careful to avoid the sensitive spots, then pulls the blanket over him and grabs a PADD from the night stand to continue his examination of Paul’s notes on the spore drive. If he can determine exactly how the drive machinery interfaces with Paul’s body...

_1_

Paul gazes down at his forearm with a smile as Hugh slides open the connection port with his thumb. “Now you just need to configure the drive interface to enter _here_ , and from there it can make the connection with your nervous system, _without_ having to break the skin.’

“Mmm, I love it when you talk medical to me.” Paul is leaning his rear against his console in engineering as Hugh examines the tech he’s just implanted. “It reminds me I have the smartest boyfriend in the universe.”

Engineering is down to a skeleton crew at this hour; still, it’s the sort of thing that, a month ago, Paul wouldn’t dream of uttering outside their quarters. Now it’s Hugh making sure no one else is in earshot before replying. “I’d have to argue that I hold that honor.” And instead of just releasing Paul’s arm, his thumb traces the soft skin down to his wrist before letting go. “Now is there any way we can test these without actually activating the drive? I’d rather know now that everything’s going to connect properly.”

“Sure!” Paul jumps up from the console and spins to face it, “We can tell the drive to do its thing, but if it has no spores to work with, it’ll just shut back down.” He steps back. “See, I made it easy for you. Once I’m in just press the button.”

A bright green button flashes on the right-hand side of the panel.

Paul steps into the reaction cube and puts his arms out in front of him as the door swings shut. He smiles and gives Hugh a brief thumbs up, and Hugh presses the button. The two metal probes of the spore drive interface swing towards Paul, and the augments on his forearms slide open. Paul lets out a gasp as the probes slide in, but it’s clearly from surprise, not pain.

After a moment, the probes release themselves, and almost immediately the lights in engineering dim and the panel in front of Hugh goes black. A second later it’s all back to normal. Hugh hurries to Paul as he steps out of the chamber. “Did we do that?”

Paul shakes his head. “I’m not exactly an expert in the non-mushroom-based systems on this ship, but without the drive fully online, that thing’s basically a wind-up toy. So I’d have to say no. Anyway, the important part is that it worked! That’s incredible!” He takes Hugh’s face in his hands. “ _You_ are incredible.”

Hugh briefly makes eye contact with a nearby ensign who is trying valiantly to keep her face buried in her work as the blush creeps up her face. He curls his hands around Paul’s, removing them from his face. “I think we’re done here, then.”

Hugh adjusts his grip on the box of equipment he’s carrying back to sickbay. He probably should have just brought a cart, but he’s trying not to be too disruptive after spending so much on-duty time on this project.

“So there’s a party down in the deck 3 lounge tonight,” says Paul. “We should head down after you drop that stuff off.”

“You really want to spend your evening playing drinking games with a bunch of twenty-somethings?”

“You didn’t warn me, when we started dating, that you were a grumpy old man. There’ll be music! You can dance! I can watch you dance.” Paul walks up closer behind Hugh and drops a kiss on his neck.

Hugh struggles with his grip on the crate again. “Paul, I have been working day and night on those implants for the past two weeks. I just want to--“

“Oh!” shouts Michael Burnham, as Hugh walks right into her and the box of equipment goes flying. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant.” She turns to Hugh. “I’m sorry, Doctor Culber.”

“Why would you apologize for a random act of physical interaction?” Paul says to Burnham as Hugh crouches down to clean up the mess of tools, Lt. Tyler joining him. “You know, these are the moments that make life so gloriously unpredictable.” Paul turns his attention to Tyler. “You’re a very tall man.”

“I believe you’ve met Lieutenant Tyler,” says Burnham, “he’s our new Chief of Security.”

“May I say,” continues Paul, “you are astonishingly grounded for having endured seven months of torture.”

_That’s enough,_ Hugh decides. “I deeply apologize for my partner. Lately he’s been,” he grins nervously, “different.”

“Speaking of different...” Paul takes the opportunity to show off his new augments, and Hugh is grateful for the change of subject. He’s still a little embarrassed to have Paul praise him so excitedly, but at this point, he’ll take it.

“By the way, what’s the deal with you two?” Paul points to Burnham and Tyler. Okay, it was definitely time to end this conversation.

“Did you see that?” shouts Paul as soon as the bridge doors have closed behind Burnham and Tyler. He grabs Hugh by the shoulders and looks him in the eye. “We have got to get those two together!”

\---

Paul is still on the subject when they return to their quarters. “What if we invite them to dinner next week? Low pressure, but it still gets them into the same space, and maybe we take a little longer with the dishes than we technically need to...”

Hugh can’t imagine anything more uncomfortable. “No, Paul. Look, wherever that might be going, they have to get there on their own.” He smiles. “Like we did.”

“That’s different. _You_ were irresistible.”

Hugh smiles and puts a hand on Paul’s waist. “Really? Terrible taste in music and all?”

“Have you seen yourself?” replies Paul, pulling himself into the embrace. “You stunning specimen of a man.”

“I knew it; you only love me for my body,” Hugh teases.

“Mmm,” Paul draws him closer and plants a series of kisses along his jaw, working his way from chin to ear. “That is the main thing I’m interested in at the moment.”

Hugh has just started unzipping Paul’s jacket when the wall lights change from white to a pulsating red, followed by the blaring of an alarm. Hugh sighs. “Red alert.”

“Son of a bitch!” Paul releases Hugh and lets him check the comm panel for the alert status. “What the hell is going on?”

“Intruder alert,” says Hugh. “We just need to sit tight and let security handle it.”

Paul sinks into the nearest chair with a groan. “Still, this is bullshit.”

“I know.” Hugh perches on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees.

Less than a minute later the alarm blares again. Hugh barely has time to wonder what’s happening now before the room is engulfed in flames.

_2_

Hugh hurries to Paul as he steps out of the chamber. “Did we do that?”

“Hugh!” Paul immediately pulls him into a firm embrace. “You’re alive! We’re alive. How...”

“Of course,” Hugh says, attempting to loosen Paul’s grip, “why wouldn’t we be?”

“The explosion... wait. All of this is wrong.”  Paul sounds like he’s just woken from a dream, but Hugh is sure he was conscious the entire time they were testing the augments. “We weren’t here; we were at home, and there was a red alert, and an explosion. And how did we get here again?”

“Paul,” he’s having trouble forming the words. This isn’t Paul turned up a notch; it’s far more worrying. “Remember, we were trying to find a way for you to interface with the spore drive? Something that wouldn’t hurt you?” Hugh wonders now it that’s even possible.

“Yes, we did that already. And then, we ran into... Burnham and Tyler, yeah, outside the bridge. Then we went home, and there was an intruder, and the ship blew up and we died, except...”

“Paul, none of that happened. I’m... sure it seems real--” Hugh stops. He may know the ins and outs of the human brain, but he’s not a psychiatrist; he’s not trained to deal with whatever Paul is going through. All he can do is be here for him. And maybe try to figure out what’s actually happening.

“Paul,” Hugh places a hand on his arm, “I think we need to go to sickbay.”

“That’s right. We went to sickbay, too. Before we went home.”

“Okay. We need to go back, though. I want to do some tests.”

\---

Hugh scans the readout. Neurotransmitter levels in normal range, no abnormalities in the occipital or temporal lobe... no, wait, there is something. He pulls up Paul’s original scan for comparison, from when he first joined Starfleet. There in the medial temporal lobe. Something has changed. He’ll need to run a more thorough scan, though, to determine exactly what it is.

“Hugh?” .

“I need to take a closer look at something,” Hugh said, “but it’s going to take time. I need you to stay here tonight, but I’ll be right here with you.” As he settles into a chair beside Paul’s bed, the wall lights change to red.

Paul sits straight up.  “It’s happening again. That’s the intruder, isn’t it?”

“It could be any number of things.” Hugh taps the comm panel behind Paul’s bed, activating the screen. “Let me just see what--” Hugh feels the blood drain from his face as he reads the words on the screen: INTRUDER ALERT.

“I’m right,” says Paul, not even questioning what Hugh saw. “We’ve got two minutes, tops. Please, don’t leave me.”

Hugh takes Paul’s hand and presses their foreheads together. “I told you I’m not going anywhere.” In fact he hasn’t moved from this spot by the time the ship tears apart around them.

_6_

Hugh hurries to catch Paul as he stumbles out of the chamber. “Did we do that?”

Paul glances around the room as if he’s not quite sure where he’s supposed to be. “Hmm, not sure. You know what?” He points at Hugh. “I have something I need to check out. Catch you at home!” Paul says as he hurries out the door.

Hugh’s communicator chirps as he packs his tools into a crate, and he flips it open. “Hey, Hugh,” says Commander Healy, “how’s this for something you don’t see every day? We’re beaming an injured gormagander on board. We’ll be in the cargo bay if you want to check it out.”

With Paul having seemingly abandoned him for the evening, he decides he may as well. “Sure Aidan, see you in a few.”

Hugh enters the cargo bay, where Burnham is already discussing the gormagander with Healy. “Hugh?” Paul is standing beside the entrance. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I wanted to have a look at the gormagander. What are _you_ doing here?”

“Hugh,” Paul grabs his arm. “You really need to go.”

Hugh pulls free. “What has gotten into you? I’ve tried to play this off, tried to convince myself it’s no big deal, but your behavior--”

Paul isn’t even paying attention, but rather peering over Hugh’s shoulder. “Here it comes.” Hugh turns his head to see the gormagander materializing in the empty space of the cargo bay, and another, much smaller shape appearing beside it. Paul grabs his arm again, pulling him behind a console, while putting his other hand to his belt. “Stay down!”

Hugh looks at the object in Paul’s hand. “Paul, why do you have a phaser?”

The smaller figure opens fire, hitting both Burnham and Healy almost immediately.

“Call security!” Hugh orders. “I need to get to them.”

“In a few minutes it won’t matter!” Hugh isn’t sure what that means, and doesn’t really care. He makes his way across the cargo bay toward Healy and Burnham, trying to stay behind cover. He barely sees the phaser bolt flying toward him as dives to cover the distance to the transporter console. The last thing he’s aware of is Paul’s scream.

_7_

Hugh hurries to Paul as he steps out of the chamber. “Did we do that?”

Paul throws his arms around Hugh, burying his face in Hugh’s shoulder. “No, we didn’t. Listen, there’s something I need to take care of, but just... get home as soon as you can.”

Hugh smiles as he considers what Paul might have planned for his return. Part of him wants to race home, but he takes his time, carefully packing away his tools for return to sickbay.

As he’s waiting to catch the turbolift back to their quarters, Hugh hears shouting coming down the corridor. The voice is definitely Paul’s. Hugh hurries after him. “Paul! I’m very sorry,” he says to Burnham, the target of Paul’s tirade. He turns back to Paul.” You’re ranting.”

“What I need,” Paul says, pointing at the air, “is for all you plastic people to finally start listening! Wait!” he adds, as Hugh tries to pull him away from the scene, “It all starts with a gormagander! A gormagander!”

The bridge doors close, and they’re alone in the corridor.

“Paul, I think we need to go to sickbay.” He hates to suggest it; Paul promised to tell him if anything was wrong, and he wants to trust him, but this behavior has Hugh worried.

Paul relaxes his stance and attempts to control his breathing. “Maybe you’re right. I--I don’t know what’s going on with me.” They turn and walk away from the bridge.

They’ve just reached the door to sickbay when Paul takes off running.

_8_

Hugh hurries to Paul as he steps out of the chamber. “Did we do that?”

Paul shakes his head. “No, but I think I know what did. I need to go check into it.” He lays a hand on Hugh’s cheek. “Do me a favor, don’t stay here too long, okay?”

_~_

_~_

_~_

_54_

 

“Did we do that?”

Paul takes Hugh’s face in his hands and looks straight into his eyes so long that Hugh feels himself blushing, then presses the gentlest of kisses to his lips.

“What was that for?” asks Hugh.

“Something just reminded me how lucky I am.”

_55_

“Did we do that?”

Paul shakes his head. “No, but I need to talk to you.” He exits the chamber and crosses engineering, submitting a breath print to open the far door. “Come with me, please.” Hugh follows him through the door. Paul takes his hand and leads him just to the edge of the forest, where he sits down. Hugh joins him

“I know how this is going to sound. You’re going to say that I’m hallucinating, that none of it’s true, that you need to take me to sickbay. I know, because you’ve said it before. But this time I need you to believe me. Or at least pretend to. Because I need your help. And in thirty minutes, if we’re still here, then you can run whatever tests you need to.”

“Paul, you’re scaring me,” Hugh begins, but he sees the pleading in Paul’s eyes, and thirty minutes isn’t so long, “but I’ll listen.”

\---

“...so I told her how we met. Well, I summarized a bit. But by then we were almost to the end. All we could do was stand there while everything ended. Again. And I can remind her what we talked about, I can tell her what I know, but how am I supposed to tell her what she learned?”

“What was she supposed to learn?” Hugh is facing Paul, sitting on his heels, his knees touching Paul’s.

“That she needs to be honest about who she is, and what she needs.”

“So you really did just want my number so we could argue about music,” Hugh teases.

“How’s this for honesty? I knew that if I let you walk away right then, if I never saw you again, I’d regret it forever.” He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to Hugh’s lips. “And I didn’t really need you to tell me what to do. I know what I need to do. I just needed you.”

Hugh sits beside him, takes his hand, and puts his other arm around his shoulder. “Paul, I believe you.”

“There’s one other thing. When we go back again, I’m gonna need to move fast. I need to make sure you won’t get in my way, or try to stop me.”

The solution is obvious to Hugh. “Seal the doors. Lock me in.”

“He’ll come here; he’ll kill you again.”

He looks at Paul. _I trust you._ “Not if you stop it.”

The lights on the walls glow red, and the alarm sounds. “If I don’t, if it’s all going to end here one way or another, I’m glad we had this time together.” Paul brings Hugh’s hand to his lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, Paul.”

They hold each other as the ship explodes.

_0_

“So you locked me in?” Hugh is lying on the bed, facing Paul, fingers running through his hair.

“It was your idea. I--I had given up on you believing me.” Hugh looks away, regretting the decisions of a self he couldn’t remember, wishing he’d been there when Paul needed him, the way he should have been. “No, look at me. It’s not your fault. I did give up pretty quickly. I didn’t want to worry you. I told you one more time near the end. I wasn’t sure we were going to make it. I just wanted a little more time with you. And in the end you believed me.”

“And now we have all the time in the world.” Hugh runs a hand down Paul’s side. He’s been able to fully heal the wounds from the spore drive now, and the scars will fade, even if they never disappear completely. “I would still like to run some tests,” he adds apologetically. “Tomorrow. Whatever allowed your mind to exist outside of the time loops... I just want to check it out.”

“You really think you wouldn’t have done that already? Like I said, you worry. You didn’t find anything.” Paul scoots closer on the bed and lets Hugh put his arms around him. Hugh raises an eyebrow; usually it’s the other way around. “I just need to know that you’re here,” says Paul. “Thank you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul Stamets is not an easy man to love. Yet ever since Hugh met him, it's been impossible not to.
> 
> Covers episode 9 "Into the Forest I Go"

“...So the Captain wants you to do a full examination, to cover his ass when Starfleet calls him on his bullshit.”

“What exactly does he mean by ‘full’?”

Paul sighs. “He said ‘every test possible’? But he really just needs the data trail, so as long as everything’s recorded--”

“Paul, I really hope you’re not asking me to falsify your medical records.” Hugh is secretly relieved to have an excuse to examine Paul. When he first started navigating the spore drive, he promised to come to Hugh if anything felt wrong. Hugh has tried to trust that. But there have been times, like yesterday with Tilly in the mess hall, when Paul has seemed to be hiding something. And the current line of discussion isn’t helping. “Is there something you don’t want me to see?”

“I’m sorry; I--I never should have asked that of you; It’s just that there’s probably  something more useful I could be doing.”

“Well, then, let’s see how quickly we can run through everything, and maybe I can fudge the timestamps a bit. We’ll start with a basic physical...”

\---

“You said you were going to make this quick.” Paul sits up on the bed, twisting around to look over his shoulder.

“I _have_ been making it quick. That doesn’t mean that I’m going to cut corners.”

“You’ve been staring at that same screen for the past 5 minutes. I thought you knew how to read these things.”

“I do, if people leave me alone and let me concentrate.” Something isn’t right about this scan, but he’s not sure what. He pulls up the Paul’s older scan again, from when he first joined Starfleet nine months ago, and zooms in on both of them, section by section. Finally, he spots the abnormality that he’s been missing, and realizes why he didn’t notice it before. The white matter literally _shouldn’t do that_ . New pathways are being formed all the time, of course, as memories are formed, but these are being entirely _rewritten_. And whatever’s causing that, it can’t be good.

“Paul? Have you noticed any issues with, ah, recall? Memories that you’re not sure are real? Missing time? Not recognizing your surroundings?”

Paul shakes his head. “Not that I’ve noticed.”

“Then it’s possible that it’s nothing to worry about. Yet.” He slips a hand into Paul’s. “But I have found something that needs to be checked out further. And we don’t have the facilities for that on the Discovery.” Paul looks like he’s about to be sick. Was it because he didn’t expect Hugh to find anything? Or because he did?

The doors to sickbay slide open. “Gentlemen,” says Captain Lorca as he enters sickbay. “Starfleet brass is awaiting a full report on the lieutenant’s condition.” Hugh had been hoping for more time to discuss that with Paul, first. Lorca wouldn’t be easy to handle.

“Well, you wanted evidence of an issue with your navigator? You’ve gotten more than you’ve asked for.” Paul turns toward Lorca. “Lieutenant Stamets’ scans show a restructuring within the white matter of his medial temporal lobe.”

“Have you experienced any side effects as a consequence of that?” asks Lorca.

“No, Captain.” This time Hugh looks at him, sees how fast he’s blinking as he states his denial, wonders what it means. Is he just not sure? Was he lying to Hugh as well? Is that one of the side effects, that lying to him comes so easily? Of course he can’t prove anything, but the scans alone are enough...

“Well, I’m not ready to play roulette with his brain.”

“Duly noted, Doctor. Send the report directly to me.”

“Captain!” He doesn’t know what he expected. Certainly not to be taken seriously by Lorca; he knows better. The protest is a token gesture by now.

“To me, Doctor, and I shall read it. Lieutenant, follow me.”

And whatever Lorca wants with Paul, it’s definitely not good.

\---

Hugh’s communicator buzzes; he pulls it out and looks at the message: _Saru and Burnham came up with an algorithm that should bypass the Klingons’ invisibility screens. We are going to need to make a few jumps around their ship while it’s invisible to gather the data._

 _And how many is a few?_ Hugh responds.

A good ninety seconds pass before he receives an answer: _133._

 _No._ It’s almost a reflex, and more for himself than Paul. Paul wouldn’t have been so cagey, or told him this via text, if he were open to convincing. Still, he _can’t_ let Paul do this. There has to be a way out of it. They could... steal a shuttle. He’ll scoop Paul up and carry him if he has to. Find a little planet outside the Federation, maybe something with a nice beach, or some forests, maybe a waterfall...

Hugh lets the fantasy play in his head as he struggles to slow his breathing. Right, now it’s time to deal with what’s actually happening. How can he keep Paul safe? There’s that experimental cuff that Phillips has been working on, to remotely administer medication during away missions. He’s had trouble getting it to respond across too much distance, but Hugh will be just meters away.

He grabs his chirping communicator from his belt. “Doctor.” It’s Lorca. “We are preparing to make a number of spore drive jumps in a short period of time. This may cause Lieutenant Stamets a great deal of mental and physical stress. I need you to do what you can to ensure he’s able to finish the job.”

“On my way, Captain. I’ll even try to make sure he’s alive at the end.” Hugh doesn’t bother trying to stifle his sarcasm. He’s just grateful that Lorca didn’t try to deliver the instruction in person; that might have tested even his restraint.

\---

Paul is studying a display when Hugh enters, a diagram dotted with numbers. A map, he realizes, of the upcoming jump pattern. He slaps his PADD onto the counter, swiping Paul’s bio-readings to the display. “I know better than to ask you not to do this,” he says as he retrieves the equipment from his case, then looks Paul in the eye, “but I will ask you to allow me to take precautions.”

Tilly looks up from the device she’s calibrating. “I’m so glad he finally told you about the side effects.”

“Side effects?” He’d guessed, of course, from Paul’s behavior in sickbay, but to have confirmation that Paul _knew_ that something was wrong, that he’d deliberately kept that information from him, _and_ involved Tilly of all people in the deception...

“Oh, my god. Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I just assumed...”

“No, it’s okay, Tilly.” It wasn’t her fault; she’d probably seen something, and Paul had ordered her to keep quiet and... If Paul weren’t about to need his professional, medical attention, Hugh isn’t sure he would even want to talk to him right now. “I’m sure the lieutenant has a very good explanation for keeping that a secret.”

“Hugh.” Paul’s eyes plead with him.

“There’s no time.” Hugh forces his feelings aside. He needs to remain professional and focus on the task at hand: making sure Paul survives this ridiculous scheme, preferably without serious brain damage. “This cuff will let me treat you while you’re in the chamber.” He slides it onto Paul’s arm, then affixes the bioscanner to his neck. Paul walks away without a word and readies himself to jump.

The next few jumps Paul makes aren’t even part of the one hundred thirty-three total. They have to get back to Pahvo, then make a few more evasive jumps to buy them time until the Klingon ship cloaks. So far, so good. But now it’s really time; there will be no break for Paul for a while. Hugh hears Airiam counting down over the comm. Paul looks at him as the spores start to fill the chamber. “I love you.”

Hugh recalls all the times he’s heard those words from Paul, and this time, like every other time, he feels his heart lift. They’ll need to talk, of course; they have a lot of things to sort out, but it will happen. He’ll get Paul to the other side of this. He has to.

\---

Paul tenses as the probes enter, and his body jerks as the jumps begin. Somehow he must be maintaining enough awareness to get them through each jump, but what is it doing to him? Hugh checks the readout “Heart rate’s at 182. Tilly, how many jumps do we have left?”

“Ninety-six more.”

Not even a third of the way through. Hugh stops and stares at Paul, still convulsing, his body and brain going through stresses Hugh can’t begin to imagine.

“Doctor Culber!” Tilly somehow finds time to get his attention even with the frantic work she’s doing loading the spores. “He’s just a patient, okay?” He’s not, though. “Who needs your help. Jump 37,” she says, inserting another spore canister. “Jump 38. Jump 39.”

Something about the counting, the rhythm of it, being able to visualize their progress, is calming to Hugh. Still, he clenches his jaw, trying to drive out the image that keeps invading his mind of Paul, unconscious in that chamber. Trying to focus on happier memories: Paul asking for Hugh’s number as he prepared to board his ship on Alpha Centauri; Paul admitting that he hadn’t called Hugh for medical advice at all and just wanted an excuse to talk; Paul on his vidscreen, begging Hugh to take his shirt off; the look on Paul’s face the first time he entered his quarters on _Discovery_ to see Hugh waiting for him.

“Jump 59. Jump 60. Jump 61. Jump 62.”

Hugh glances at the life sign readout and back at Paul, as his eyes jerk open. He hurries to the outside of the chamber, as close to Paul as he can be. “How we doing, lieutenant?”

Paul’s eyes peer into his. “There’s a clearing in the forest. That’s how they go.” _What?_

“Jump 63.” And he’s gone again.

He isn’t going to make it. “Engineering to bridge, we have to abort!”

“We have seventy jumps left, Doctor,” Lorca replies.

 _Fuck you._ “His sinoatrial node is firing at over 200 per minute. Call it off! Now!”

“You do whatever you have to do. You keep him alive till he finishes the jumps. Trillions of lives are at stake here. That’s an order, Doctor.”

Lorca can shove his trillions of lives; Hugh has a duty to his patient. He knows he can’t win this, though, and pulls up the med list on his PADD. “Administering digoxin, 2.4 cc’s.” Just till he finishes the jumps, then Lorca couldn’t care less what happens to him. Maybe when it’s over, if Paul’s still alive, if he still knows who he is, maybe they _should_ steal that shuttle and run away. He puts a hand to the glass. “I love you, too.” He only hopes Paul can still hear it.

“Jump 65. Jump 66.” Their first night together on board the _Discovery_ , Hugh locking the door with one hand while pressing Paul against the wall with the other. Sneaking out the next morning to bring back breakfast.

‘Jump 74.” Slow dancing in the lounge. There were other people, and the song playing wasn’t the right tempo, but they were both there, and something about the moment just felt right.

“Jump 89.” Coming home the morning after a long emergency surgery, Paul is waiting with coffee and toast and a big bowl of strawberries, and greets him with a gentle kiss on the cheek and a hand stroking the top of his head.

“Jump 94.” Paul lying motionless on the floor of the chamber, his face blank. _No! Go away!_ “Jump 95.” Blood trailing from the four puncture wounds on opposite sides of his chest. “Jump 96.” On his knees beside Paul, finally detecting the faint pulse beneath his fingers.

“No. No, stop it!” He peers through the glass. _What’s happening to you?_

“Jump 97. Doctor!”

Hugh jerks his head away from Paul’s face to check the life sign readings on the PADD again. They’re moving back into the danger zone. He swipes the display up, administers more drugs. “Jump 98.” _Listen to the numbers._ “Jump 99.” _Take care of Paul. You’re the only one who can._

\---

“Jump 132, and three, two, one.” The _Discovery_ completes its final jump. “We’re done.” Tilly hurries to the reaction cube and activates the door; Hugh hurries in as soon as there’s room for him to slip through and calls for the transport to sickbay.

Dr. Pollard is at Paul’s side with a hypospray before Hugh has a chance to react. “What are you--” He feels a hand on his shoulder; it’s the CMO, Dr. Pitney.

“It’s okay, Culber,” she says, “we’ve got it from here.”

He watches as they work, attaching monitors, injecting drugs; watching as Paul’s vital signs begin to level out. He feels his breath catch in his throat. and goes to get a drink of water. That’s when he realizes his hands are shaking so badly he can barely hold the cup. Finally he just grips it with both hands, like a toddler, and downs the liquid with one gulp.

Pitney is there to take the cup from him when he finishes. “We’ve stabilized him. He just needs rest, now. So do you. You should go home.”

“I am not. Leaving. Him.” 

“Hugh, come with me.” He follows her into her office. “Lieutenant Stamets is stable. You will be the first to know if that changes. But you need to take care of yourself, too.” She holds up a hypospray. “I am going to give you this, and then you are going to go home. That’s an order.” Hugh only nods in response.

On returning to their quarters, Hugh can already feel his eyelids getting heavy. He vows not to give in, turning on one of his louder operas and attempting to log into the sickbay computers remotely, so he can at least keep an eye on Paul’s vitals.

**\--ACCESS DENIED--**

She's locked him out. He increases the volume on his music. He’s too distracted to read; a movie will put him right to sleep. He loads a card game on his PADD and starts to play, but he’s having trouble focusing on the numbers...

_Hugh races into the engineering lab, where Paul lies motionless on the floor of the reaction cube. The door swings open before he can even reach for the panel, and he enters and kneels on the floor, pressing his fingers to Paul’s throat, desperately searching for a pulse, fearing as always that this would be the time..._

_No, no, nonono. “Paul, coraz_ _ó_ _n, no, please, come back.” He reaches for his medkit, but it’s nowhere to be found. How could he have forgotten that? He reaches to his belt for his communicator; that’s missing, too. Reflexively, he places his hands on Paul’s chest and begins compressions, pleading with each one. “C’mon, sweetie, wake up, please, don’t go.”_

_Paul’s eyelids fly open, revealing only milky whiteness. “Paul! What...” He blinks and the eyes are clear again. Yet something’s still wrong. He knows Paul’s eyes and these are... off, somehow._

_“Did we make it?” Paul asks._

_“What?”_

_Paul starts laughing, as he did after that first jump. But the laugh is wrong, too; there’s none of the joy that Hugh remembers from that day. It’s as if Paul is laughing_ at _him. And those wrong eyes continue to stare right through him..._

Hugh awakens to see Paul beside him on the sofa, lips pressed to his cheek. “Sorry, babe,” says Paul, “I didn’t mean to wake you.” Hugh blinks, grabs Paul’s chin, and just looks at him, at his eyes. It’s okay; they’re Paul’s eyes. Hugh gasps, trying to slow his breathing. “Are you okay?”

“No!” Hugh pulls away, curling into a ball on the far end of the sofa, tears springing to his eyes. “I am not okay! With any of this! I keep dreaming,” he takes a few more breaths, his breathing nearly under control again, “of finding you, like I did after that first jump, not knowing if you’re alive or dead. You’re always fine, just like you were then, but I can’t just forget how that felt. And then just now, it was different. I dreamt I lost you, Paul.”

He looks up. “I care about you too much to keep watching you do this. Especially since we don’t know what it’s doing to you. If I can’t even trust you to tell me something’s wrong...”

“You’re right.” Hugh looks up. Paul is sitting beside him, arms open, inviting Hugh to come in. He waits. “I tried to tell myself I was protecting you, by not telling you about the side effects. Sometimes I could admit that I just didn’t want to be separated from you again. But I think maybe I just didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to give it up.”

Hugh burrows his head into Paul’s chest and lets his arms envelop him. “And what now? Can you give it up now?”

“The network is so beautiful, Hugh. It’s like you can see the whole universe at once, like every possibility you can imagine is right at your fingertips. I wish I could show it to you; that somehow we could experience it together. But,” Paul takes a deep breath, then another, “it’s not worth hurting you. It’s not worth... losing you. I’m so sorry.” Paul tightens his grip and kisses Hugh on the forehead. Surrounded by his soft warmth, Hugh drifts back to sleep.

\---

Hugh stares at the reaction cube and the equipment inside. The spore drive. The culmination of Paul’s life’s work, and the thing that’s been slowly destroying him. He wants to tear it apart, to tear this whole room apart along with the memories it’s left him with. He’s only here now because Paul asked to meet him.

He turns toward the sound of footsteps to see Paul walking across the room, and almost immediately Paul’s hands are behind his head, pulling him into a kiss so desperate he has to put his hands on Paul’s waist to steady himself.

Lorca’s voice comes over the lab’s comm, “Mr. Stamets, shall we dock this weary vessel?”

“Yes, Captain,” Paul replies, then turns to Hugh. “There is a moon near Starbase 46,” he begins, in the almost melodic voice he uses when he’s flirting, “and I understand they have the most esteemed Kasseelian opera house, where they are currently performing _La Boheme._ ” Hugh can’t help but smile; of all the things he never expected to hear Paul say, this might top the list. “I could be your date.”

Hugh nods. “Are you saying you’d actually sit through that with me?”

“Just this jump, and then I’m going to have a lot of free time on my hands.”

Hugh places a hand on Paul’s neck, letting it fall away as Paul walks to the reaction cube. This is it, then. Starbase 46, then Paul’s off to a Starfleet neurology center. Hugh knows it’s too soon for him to request another transfer, but he can try to take some leave, and buy himself a little more time at Paul’s side. And if Paul is truly committed to this course, if he can walk away from his life’s work... Hugh lets a thought surface that he’s been unable to consider over the past two months: he thinks about the future they might have together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're past the halfway point! i'm planning on two more chapters after this, one covering up to the thing that happens in ep. 10, and then another for after that. Possibly an epilogue of sorts. Thank you to everyone who's left comments so far!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul Stamets is not an easy man to love. Yet ever since Hugh met him, it's been impossible not to.
> 
> Covers events during epidode 10, "Despite Yourself"

_ Now what?  _ Throughout his relationship with Paul, Hugh’s felt a lot of things: frightened, angry at times, worried more and more often lately. But he’s never felt lost like this, never felt empty. Even if Lorca didn’t take him off Paul’s case, he doesn’t know where to start in treating him. Compared to this, getting through that series of jumps the day before was easy. Treat the symptoms. Now, all he can see are Paul’s milky eyes, the ones from his dream. And when he tries to look away, he hears Paul’s scream as they started the last jump. “What’s happening to you?” he whispers.

“Hugh.” He turns to see Pitney standing behind him. “I just got a message from the captain; he--”

“I know, he wants me off Paul’s case. But this is a medical matter; you can overrule him--”

She nods. “I could, but he does have a point.” 

“What?”

“You’re too close to this. I know I’ve looked the other way a lot of the time, but that was for routine care, and you’ve demonstrated your professionalism. The situation yesterday... if I’d been aware of it, I would have sent someone else. And whatever you’re dealing with right now, I can’t imagine that you can keep your personal feelings out of it.”

Hugh knows she’s right, and while it’s a lot easier to hear from her than from Lorca, it doesn’t change the reality of the situation. “No one else on this ship has my training in neurology. If he were anyone else, you’d be ordering me to take the lead on this. Because we don’t have any other options.”

“The fact remains, that he is not anyone else, and I will be responsible for Lieutenant Stamets’ care from here on out. That said, considering the circumstances, you will continue to have full access to his records, and if you have any recommendations regarding his treatment, I will take them under advisement.”

He almost continues his protest, but Pitney’s stare silences him. He can see that she’s on his side; that while it’s not worth pushing back against Lorca, she’s taking him off Paul’s case in name only.

“Now, I don’t think we can afford to take you off duty entirely, but I can place you on call...”

He shakes his head. “I’m not leaving him. And if I’m going to be here anyway I may as well be working.” Of course, sickbay is empty at the moment, so “working” consists of getting a cup of tea and examining Paul’s readouts yet again, to see if anything suggested a course of action. “Computer, run a search for...” So much of what they’re dealing with is entirely unprecedented, that he’s not sure where to start. “For alterations in brain activity following DNA hybridization.”

He started reviewing every article he could find on the topic weeks ago, but they’d be worth another read through now that he knew what he was looking for. He’s just grateful that he bothered to download everything upfront. Without access to the Federation subspace network, he’s limited to what’s in the  _ Discovery’s  _ archives, regardless of what he finds to start with. 

He’s not sure what he expects to find; Paul’s condition was seemingly triggered by the jump, and Hugh isn’t going to find any information on that in his articles. He does have access to all of Paul’s research, though. Including Paul’s scans from his first transport across the network. 

He loads each model to the display, placing them side by side. The original scan dated almost three years ago, then another one taken after the transport, his initial physical when he boarded the  _ Discovery,  _ followed by Hugh’s scan the evening after Paul’s first jump, the scan from Paul’s exam the day before, and finally, one from today.

The first three show only superficial changes; it’s not until Paul started navigating the spore drive that anything abnormal appears, with the restructuring he discovered the other day showing up immediately afterward. He didn’t even recognize it at the time, he was looking for the random frontal lobe activity he’d seen in the tardigrade. Now he wishes he had taken more readings, to better track the progression. He had trusted Paul to tell him if anything was wrong. It was a mistake, for so many reasons. 

Regardless, the most recent scan does show those same random neural discharges in the frontal lobe, and little else. Was any of his mind even left? Hugh drops the force field surrounding Paul’s bed, taking his hand and pressing a kiss to his forehead. He feels Paul’s fingers tighten around his and as much as his heart tries to tell him that it means something, he knows it’s likely just a reflex, muscle memory. He lets go, steps away, and raises the field again. 

\---

He scrolls through the scans again, examining different cross-sections, trying to find any kind of pattern. His eyes keep being drawn to the last one, though. He rotates the image, looking at the changes in the pathways, all the new activity. Where is Paul in all of this? He sets the image to cover the whole screen. Somewhere in there is the soft smile Paul gives him before a kiss, the way he leans into an unexpected touch, the gentle “I love you” he uttered barely 24 hours before.

He feels a hand on his shoulder. “Find anything, yet?” inquires Pitney. He shakes his head. “I need you to see to Tyler, here, while I check on Lieutenant Stamets.”

He can’t argue; he did agree to remain on duty.  “How can I help, Lieutenant?”

“I just... I don’t know... I need to get some things checked out”

Whatever Tyler is trying to be vague about, Hugh isn’t sure it matters. Likely something that would disqualify him from duty, but Hugh wonders what it would take at this point to convince Lorca to ground him. “What exactly are you worried about Lieutenant?”   


“I just want you to make sure they Klingons didn’t do something to me. Some kind of procedure I don’t know about.”

Hugh didn’t examine Tyler when he first came on board, but he has seen the charts. Other than the expected physical and mental stresses, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Something must have happened to worry Tyler, but his Manchurian test, all his personality screens, came back clean. Hugh glances at Paul as he explains this. He doesn’t need another mystery to solve.

What he does need is some idea of what he’s looking for. Maybe he’s just trying humor Tyler so he can get this task over with and get back to helping Paul. Or maybe bedside manner isn’t his top priority at the moment. Still, he manages to direct Tyler to a bed so he can begin scans, configuring the computer to run some deeper checks.

“Stay out of the palace!” Paul shouts as Hugh begins the scan. 

He glances up; Pitney’s already back in her office. “I’ll be just a minute,” he tells Tyler, then drops the field and moves to Paul’s side, placing a hand up his leg and the other on his shoulder. “Paul, I’m not going anywhere. I’m gonna stay right by your side. It’ll be okay.” He runs his fingers through Paul’s hair and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. “Come back to me, corazón,” he whispers. Paul’s eyes flutter open.

And... they’re Paul’s eyes. Clear and blue and definitely, definitely Paul . A hopeful smile springs to his face. Does it mean it’s over? That he’s okay? “Paul?”

Paul raises his head and whispers, “Be careful. The enemy is here.” Even as he says it, his eyes cloud over again and his head drops back to the pillow.

“Doctor?” He nearly forgot about Tyler. “I think this is done?”

The scanner has reached the foot of the bed. Hugh checks the readout. “I have all the data I’ll need; I’ll just need some time to analyze it.” He spares another glance at Paul, blinking back tears. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

\---

In need of a break before trying to decipher another set of neural images, Hugh turns his attention to Tyler’s physical scans. He sees the masses of scar tissue, what was concluded to be the result of Tyler’s torture, but what catches his attention is the  _ pattern _ of the scarring, concentrated around the major organs. Something’s not right about the bones, either. The initial examination picked up recently healed fractures, but the lines are too clean. Whatever caused this was deliberate, surgical.

Hugh is familiar with the rumors of Starfleet Intelligence using surgical alterations used to send individuals deep undercover, as members of a different species. But it would be nearly impossible to pose as a specific person, too easy for someone to poke holes in the story, find something that doesn’t match their data trail. And anything more than a cursory DNA scan would... 

DNA. Hugh recalls one of the articles he reviewed, an abstract he barely skimmed, that wasn’t at all relevant to Paul’s case. He pulls it back up: a suggestion that, in addition to transferring genetic material from one organism to another, that actual brain patterns; thoughts, memories, everything that makes up a personality, could be transferred as well.

If this is true, if the man they all know as Ash Tyler is... was... a Klingon? He can’t prove anything, not without further testing, but Tyler could be a threat to all of them. He can’t go to the captain; Lorca’s practically adopted Tyler, and he’ll trust him over Hugh any day. He’ll have to explain his suspicions to Tyler himself, declare him unfit, and hope Lorca doesn’t try to overrule him anyway.

He only has a moment to realize his mistake...


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul Stamets is not an easy man to love. Yet ever since Hugh met him, it's been impossible not to.
> 
> Covers events during "The Wolf Inside" and "Vaulting Ambition"

Hugh doesn’t remember dying.

He remembers speaking with Tyler, remembers the look on Tyler’s face shifting from fear to anger, remembers the split-second thought that he should have put a force field up, as Tyler’s hands reached toward him...

...and then he remembers waking up. He’s not in sickbay anymore; as far as he can tell, he’s not anywhere. What he sees and hears is worse than blackness and silence, it’s nothing at all. All he has is the awareness of who he is, of his life leading to this point. Hugh isn’t sure he ever really believed in a life after death, but like many people, he’s imagined it. It was never this state of sensory deprivation, with only his own thoughts to keep him company; but a place where one could reunite with the dead, or at least look after those still living.

_ Paul...  _ and as his partner’s name springs to his mind, Hugh does feel something: a dull ache in his chest. His vision shifts, and now he can see. He’s in the cafe on Alpha Centauri, where he and Paul first met. It’s empty now, glowing with a strange blue light, but he can still picture the area exactly as it was that day, when he thought, this man wouldn’t be one to string him along.

Another shift, and it’s the beach on Deneva that they went to together, the first time Hugh managed to take some leave and visit Paul. He recalls the night they spent here under the stars, remembers waking up before Paul and watching the sunrise set his face and hair ablaze. Again, and it’s Paul’s old quarters on the  _ Discovery, _ where Hugh surprised him when he first came aboard; the quarters Paul pretended to use for about two weeks before officially moving in with Hugh. One more, and he’s in engineering, in Paul’s lab.

“Forest.” It’s the first thing Hugh has heard since... since he was killed. His first indication of being not completely alone. “Forest,” it repeats. It’s Paul’s voice.  _ No, Paul, not you, too.  _ He looks toward the sound... “Forest” ...and sees Paul sitting against a bulkhead in his hospital gown, eyes still clouded, holding Hugh’s body in his arms. And even as he watches the scene, separate from it, he somehow feels Paul’s arms around him, the touch as real as any he experienced in life.

“The forest is dark, but I can see him through the trees. The trees.” 

“I’m right here, Paul.” His voice breaks and the words catch in his throat.  _ How...  _ “I’m right here.” He hears footsteps in the corridor and looks in their direction to see Ensign Harrington, staring at the scene, her eyes opening wide in horror as she takes it in. Hugh realizes what she must be thinking and shouts in her direction. “No! This isn’t what happened. Paul didn’t do it!” It’s futile, of course. No one can hear him. Everyone’s going to believe that Paul killed him. And even if his current mental state means he couldn’t really be blamed, Hugh can’t--

And now he’s in the  _ Discovery’s  _ cultivation bay. Paul’s forest. He has so many memories of this place. He would bring lunch for Paul, and usually he’d be far too eager to just eat and get back to work, but sometimes they’d slip down here and enjoy the beauty and the organic not-quite-silence and the closeness to each other. He hears movement in the distance and is about to hide when he remembers no one can see him.

That’s what he thinks, anyway, until a figure steps out from among the mushrooms and looks directly at him.

“Hugh?” It’s Paul.

Except it isn’t the Paul that he remembers. He’s dressed all in black, with gloved hands and a sword-shaped insignia pinned above his breast, with a severe, almost haughty look on his face. Looking at him with those eyes from his dream, the ones that stared right through Hugh as he laughed. “How can you see me? How did you get here?”

“Riiight, you’re the other one.”

Hugh nods. “And you’re not my Paul. How long have you been here?”

“That’s not important. What’s important is getting out.”

“What do you mean, ‘get out’? We’re dead.”

“You might be; I’m certainly not. My body’s alive and well... apart from the fact that I’m not in it. That’s what I need your boyfriend’s help with.”

“You stay the fuck away from him! Are you trying to get him stuck here, too?” Even though they’ve barely spoken, Hugh doesn’t trust this version of Paul.

“Listen, sweetheart. he’s trapped already. Stuck halfway between here and his body and not even knowing where he is. If we can bring him here, if we can make him understand, maybe he can navigate us  _ out _ . Otherwise he could be stuck there forever.”

“Or someone else could find a way to bring him back.”

“Yeah?  _ You  _ didn’t seem to be having much luck.”

“I was making progress. I had another patient to deal with...”

“Yeah, and it sounds like that went well.” Paul shakes his head. “Probably not how you want to deliver bad news to someone bigger than you.”

“This is pointless.” Hugh pushes past, deeper into the forest.

And suddenly the forest is gone.

He’s back in that empty space again. It’s not entirely empty this time, though. Flashes of light, threads of color surround him. And through it all, he can see... everything.

_ “The network is so beautiful, Hugh. It’s like you can see the whole universe at once, like every possibility you can imagine is right at your fingertips.” _

Hugh knows where he is now. And Paul was right. The network is beautiful. He has the universe at his fingertips, and he can see all the missed roads in his life. If his father’s tumor had been found sooner, if Martin hadn’t dumped him after graduation, if he hadn’t heard Paul’s humming on the Alpha Centauri spacedock. He understands now why it was so hard for Paul to give it up, the sacrifice he was willing to make for him, for them. He understands why Paul wanted to share this place with him. Yet what a way for him to get that wish.

The network brought him to places in his past, places where he and Paul shared memories. Was Paul trying to lead him somewhere? Or was Hugh just picking up on something familiar? He supposes that before he gets too wrapped up in the possibilities, he should try to find out if that other Paul is telling the truth.

Now Hugh is in a large, dark, and mostly empty room. He can tell from the equipment and the displays that it’s a sickbay, but it’s not one he’s ever been in. Paul, the other Paul, lies unconscious on a bed nearby, while the panel in the corner indicates active lifesigns. 

That much is true, then; he’s alive, his consciousness somehow trapped in the mycelial network. And if Hugh is on his ship, maybe he can view his logs, his research, figure out what he can do to help his Paul, and send him back home.

\---

“No,” Hugh whispers. The logs haven’t given him any new insight on how to help Paul, but he’s discovered something far worse. Whatever Paul’s counterpart has been doing to the network has caused serious damage. In the logs he only states that the network “doesn’t respond the way it used to,” but Hugh can see from the data, from what he remembers about Paul’s work, that the network is dying. He has to find Paul, now, has to find some way to wake him up, to communicate, to lead him toward finding a solution before everything is lost.

And now he’s in Paul’s lab on the  _ Discovery _ . Paul is in the reaction cube, surrounded by a cloud of spores, while Tilly stands just outside, explaining to Saru, “The laser photon emissions are comprised entirely of exotic matter found in the mycelial plane. And when that matter integrates with Stamets’ own neural materials, it should restore his cognitive function.”

Hugh turns his eyes to the nearby display, where Paul’s neural patterns are beginning to even out. “Well, done, Cadet,” he mutters as Tilly and Saru cross to the display. Paul mentored her well. Physics as biology, just like he always insisted. Fantastic, except, Hugh still needs to warn him. “Paul! Paul, can you hear me?” He’s not sure what state Paul’s mind is in right now, if he’s aware of anything, if he’s capable of responding. He needs to keep trying, though. “Paul, I need to tell you something. The mycelial network, it’s sick. It’s dying. You know what that means. I just hope you can hear this, that you can figure something out...”

He’s interrupted by the beeping from the nearby console. He looks over to see Paul’s heart rate falling dangerously low. Hugh isn’t sure how he can feel his own heart racing, his throat closing up, when he doesn’t even have a physical body anymore, but he knows the cause. Paul is in danger, and he can’t do anything to help him. Tilly’s trying, but... the whine of the monitor flatlining echoes in his head.

The med team races in, and he watches Pitney attach the defibrillator and try to bring him back, but Paul’s presence, which he’d felt so strongly here, is getting dimmer and dimmer. It’s not going back into his body; he’s... “NO! No, mi amor, not you, too!”

Now he’s back in the empty network again; Paul is nowhere to be seen, but Hugh feels his presence. He’s not gone, not entirely, he just... Hugh shakes his head. It’s hard to focus, maybe because of the damage to the network, or maybe just because he’s afraid. He needs to find Paul, make sure he knows what’s happening to the network, find a way to help him get home.

And now he’s in the  _ Discovery’s  _ sickbay, or at least that’s what it reminds him of. It’s not the real ship, though. It’s a memory, like the ones he had when he first got here, everything bathed in a strange blue light. He examines a panel beside the door:  _ U.S.S Stamets _ . Paul’s memories. That means he can find Paul here. His first instinct is to check their quarters, but he realizes that Paul is far more likely to be in his lab. 

Hugh opens the door to see both Pauls conversing.. That won’t do. He can’t risk that bastard interfering. “Paul,” he calls gently as he crosses the doorway then continues to walk the familiar path to their quarters. Paul’s counterpart doesn’t know this ship, won’t know to find them there. He only hopes that Paul will understand, and follow him. 

He hears Paul chasing behind him, but keeps walking until he finds himself in their room. He waits for the footsteps outside to come to a stop, then opens the door. He stands at the sink, facing away from the doorway. When he sees Paul in the mirror, he shuts the door and smiles at his reflection. “Hi.” He walks out of the bathroom toward Paul. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come home. All the other times I’d try to lure you from work with dinner, wine...”

Paul is still in science mode. “Are you caught in the network, too?”

“No,” and he can’t keep the sob from his voice as he adds, “I’m gone.”

“Gone?”

Hugh grabs Paul’s shoulders, then reaches down to take his hands. “You don’t know, do you?” Hugh remembers Paul cradling his body, talking to him, but somehow Paul doesn’t remember any of it. “Paul, I’m so sorry, but I died.” He watches as Paul processes the information, wishing he would cry, or lash out, or something. Wondering who will help him through it when the grief finally hits. 

Paul pulls his hands away and sits on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, hunched over. Hugh joins him. “I saw you die,” Paul begins, quietly. “I watched Tyler kill you. I held your body in my arms. I thought it was a dream.”

“I wish it were.” Instead, he knows that it’s Paul’s worst nightmare. He shakes his head. “I remember your arms around me. You made me feel safe; you always did.”

He hears banging at the door. It’s Paul’s counterpart. “Stamets, get out of there! This place is quicksand; if we don’t leave, we die.” That much, at least, is right. Paul can’t stay here, as much as Hugh would like him to. 

“Computer,” says Paul, levelly, “Play Kasseelian opera. The aria he loves, the one I hate.” Music fills the room. But Hugh can’t let him ignore what’s real. There’s more at stake than just the two of them.

“This won’t change anything.”

“I don’t want it to change. I want it to be the way it was.” Hugh puts a hand on Paul’s back. Paul turns to him and takes his hand. “Please let it be the way it was.” 

And for the briefest moment, Hugh looks at the desperation in Paul’s eyes, and he almost could. He nods, and they’re at the sink together, in their Starfleet regulation pajamas, brushing their teeth. Paul spits and looks up with the tiniest hint of a smile. “This is perfect.”

It is. “This was always my favorite time with you.”

Paul turns to him. “Did you know I loved you?” he begins, shaking his head. “I don’t think I told you enough.”

Hugh thinks back to all those little moments of doubt: the  _ Glenn _ , the tardigrade, the lies about his mental state, but they’re outweighed by so much more. He learned early on that Paul was not a man who loves easily. But he’s rarely failed to make Hugh feel loved. “You showed me, all the time.” Maybe they can have this, for just a little while longer. “Tell me about your day.”

“It was... awful,” Paul replies as they walk back into the living area. “My partner is dead, my life’s work has been a waste, what I knew to be beautiful is hostile, and the mycelial network is hell.”

He’s wrong on three of the four, though Hugh would never dare tell him quite in that way. “No, Paul. You were right. The network is a gift; it’s the thread that weaves life through space. But it is in danger.” Hugh moves closer to Paul.

He pulls away. “Yeah, we’re in danger. It’s eating me alive... well, the other me.”

“Well, the other you deserves it.” He walks after Paul. “In his universe, that Stamets exploited the network for his own gain. He’s the one who corrupted it. I needed you to follow me to warn you.” He holds out his arm to show Paul the other thing he discovered, his skin, or whatever passes for it here, burning red and black with infection. “The damage is spreading. Eventually, everything, everywhere will be exterminated. You have to save us by saving the network.”

Paul shakes his head nervously. “How? I can’t even find my way out.”

Hugh puts his hands on Paul’s shoulders again. “You’re in a coma, on the  _ Discovery _ , and the simplest way back is just to open your eyes.”

The look on Paul’s face is the thing that nearly breaks him, that makes him almost wish he were the kind of man who could sacrifice the entire multiverse, just to give the man he loves a little peace. He’s not though, and they both know it. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”

He brings his hands to Paul’s face, fingers cradling the back of his neck, savoring every last bit of contact. “It’s never goodbye. Isn’t that what you’ve been trying to teach all of us?” Paul looks up at him again, his blue eyes moist. “Nothing in here is ever truly gone. I believe in you, Paul.” The opera, almost forgotten, reaches a crescendo. “I love you.”

He leans in for the kiss, pouring all of himself into it, hoping to leave Paul with enough to sustain him after he’s gone. Paul takes it in, feasting like a man who hasn’t eaten in a week, before falling away in a daze, his eyes still closed.

Hugh knows it’s time, now. Slowly, he releases Paul, his hands almost aching as they slip away from his skin. “Follow the music, Paul. Look for the clearing in the forest. Open your eyes.”

He watches Paul dissolve into a cloud of blue spores.

And now he’s alone.


	7. Epilogue

“The pathways are bifurcating too quickly. I don’t know where to go.”

He’s there, with Paul, in the reaction cube, one with the cloud of spores surrounding him. He’s done it, saved the network, almost gotten the  _ Discovery  _ back home. But now he’s lost. Hugh tries to speak to him, to guide him, but it’s not like it was before. With Paul only partly in the network, his words can’t get through.

But something else might. The aria. The last moment they shared. He had once found himself idly humming that piece of music in a hotel bar on Alpha Centauri, and it changed his life. Now he sings it, with all his... whatever passes for breath here.

“Wait,” says Paul, “it’s the clearing in the forest.

“Thanks, Hugh,” he adds, just before the  _ Discovery  _ returns to normal space.  Hugh isn’t sure how Paul knew; he’s not sure it really matters. He’s brought them home.

Almost.

It’s different now, for Hugh. He can exist on the  _ Discovery  _ in a way he couldn’t before, as a part of their space-time. He’s torn between not wanting to invade Paul’s privacy when he thinks no one’s around, and not wanting to let him be truly alone.

In the end, the latter wins out. Paul puts on a good show for the crew, but back in their, no, his quarters, Hugh sees how easily the grief paints his face. So he follows. He’s there when Paul confronts Tyler in the corridor.

_ A man that I loved... _

He’s there as Paul watches his newest mycelium crop spread itself across the surface of Veda’s moon.

_ C’mon, kiddos... _

And he’s there when Paul sits on the sofa, clutching a medal in his hands, identical to the one pinned to his jacket save for the black ribbon. He watches as Paul turns it over in his hands, as he intently studies the design and engraving, as he hurls it at the far wall, as the tears finally come. He sits beside Paul, hoping that if anything can get through to him, this does.

“You’ll never be alone.”


End file.
